The Forest
by Arwendle
Summary: In 1192 Susannah Stackhouse flees her comfortable life at Hale Manor to avoid an arranged marriage. She finds herself deep in the wilderness of Bon Temps forest where a deadly witch known as the Forest Wife and outlaws like Eric de Northman roam free. A/H
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- This story is a blend of SVM and Theresa Tomlinson's young adult novel _The Forestwife._ _The Forestwife _is a grittier, more realistic, Maid Marian centric version of Robin Hood. I have used it extensively in this fanfiction both for plot and historical references but the characters will be familiar to those versed in the SVM world. Also, please be patient for the arrival of Eric, it will be a few chapters before he is properly introduced.**

**I do not own any rights for SVM or The Forestwife.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1 – Escape from Hale Manor

Susannah stood beside her uncle's chair on the raised dais at the end of the great hall. Her hands shook as she twisted the heavy garnet ring on her forefinger. It had belonged to her mother, Michelle de Hale, and it was all that Susannah had left of her. She worked it round and round frantically until she saw that her uncle was  
>watching, irritated by the nervous action.<p>

The lord of Hale Manor tapped his fingers on the carved wooden armrests. "Heaven knows, child, I have done my best by thee. I pray you'll not disgrace me."

"But Uncle...,"she whispered her protest.

"What? Speak up, child. Speak clear."

Her uncle bent forward, frowning with the impatience that he clearly felt.

"Uncle, he is so...old."

"No good fussing and fretting about that. 'Tis what a girl child's reared for—marriage and breeding. William de Compton is a grand match for an orphaned wench like thee. I've more to worry about than maiden's fears, what with Queen Sophie Anne demanding high taxes for her crusade, and Count Felipe wanting men and horses to strengthen his garrison at Castro Castle against her.

Susannah forced her mouth into a tight line and stared unblinking at her uncle's long, yellow fingernails, fearing that the slightest twitch would loosen the tears clinging to the corners of her eyes.

Bartlett de Hale stood to leave. His patience was at an end.

"For my poor dead sister's sake tha must curb thy temper and accept my decision. You are eighteen years old, girl. Many a maid is married at twelve."

As soon as the door closed behind her uncle, Susannah dashed towards her chambers, threw herself face down on her mattress, and screamed into the bedding. She couldn't marry Lord Compton! She wouldn't! He was repulsive. He smelled of sour ale and old urine and his lecherous eyes, like his skin, were filmy and yellow with age. The thought of dining with him...of sleeping next to him...of fulfilling the mysterious wifely duties with him... She would rather run away and leave Hale Manor forever.

Susannah flew to her clothes chest, yanked open the lid, and began tossing aside the carefully layered garments in search of the winter cloak that had been packed away for the warm summer months. She spotted its purple wool and grabbed it by the fur-lined hood. Tucking it under her arm, she shoved the rest of her clothes back into the chest and began her escape.

Her heart flittering like a hummingbird trapped in her chest, Susannah walked with forced nonchalance towards the back of the Manor House. She could hear her uncle in the front hall calling for his groom but both the corridor and the kitchen were deserted except for a cook dozing over a basket of leeks. Susannah carefully eased a loaf of bread off the hearth, wrapped it in her cloak, and bolted out into the garden. She hurried through the rows of beans and peas towards the small gate that led to the wooded part of the estate.

She was lifting the iron sneck of the gate when the kitchen door opened. Susannah dropped to her hands and knees in the dirt nauseous with fear, knowing that if she were caught now, there would be no escape from Lord Compton and his rotten black stumps of teeth. A chorus of joyful grunting reassured her. No one had discovered her flight. It was only the kitchen maid scraping the vegetable peelings into the pig sty. Susannah nudged the gate open and quietly crawled through. She crouched, listening for the sound of the maid returning to the house. Then, she got to her feet and ran.

Once she had started, she dared not stop. She dared not even look back over her shoulder as she hurtled down the well-worn pathway towards the shelter of the trees. She had no destination, just the knowledge that she had to get as far away from the manor as possible.

In the woods, she followed the small, forested paths at a brisk walk and stayed far away from the old Roman road.

She was almost to the edge of her uncle's demesne when a thought almost had her turning back. How could she go without saying goodbye to Gran? She'd been in such a state that she hadn't stopped to think.

Adele wasn't Susannah's real grandmother but her beloved nurse. Michelle de Hale, had died, far away in a convent, giving birth to her daughter. Bartlett de Hale had buried his sister with many a tear of shame, then brought the child back to Hale Manor to rear as his own. He'd called for a wet nurse for the babe, and it was Adele who'd come. She'd been like a mother to Susannah ever since.

Susannah forced herself onwards. She couldn't go back now. She might not have this opportunity again. Besides, if she told Gran she was running away, Gran would fret and grumble and insist on coming too. How would Adele fare with her rheumaticky joints? Her nurse was not so old, but ever since learning that her brother had been killed and his son, Eric, had disappeared after being charged with the murder, she'd grown vague and forgetful. She'd even taken to wandering off for hours at a time, returning late and seeming puzzled at the darkness. No, she would miss the dear woman but taking Gran could only bring them both to grief. And if Gran had to stay behind, it was kinder and safer not to tell her at all. If she knew nothing, she could say nothing.

The Bellefleur woods were not frightening like the thick, dark forests and wild wastes farther to the north. They were networked with paths and peopled with workers. Charcoal burners lived in hovels close to where they fired their bell-shaped wood stacks, families of coal diggers worked in small groups wherever the coal seams touched the surface, and ironworkers made their bloom hearths near to the streams that they dammed and used as cooling ponds.

Susannah avoided these people as best as she could. The folks who gleaned their living from the woods lived on the edge of starvation and owed tithes and labor to Bellefleur Manor. She could not know if they would betray her, should they glimpse her flight.

The farther she went from the main trail, the more difficult the going became. Her fine-stitched slippers did little to protect her from the fallen holly leaves and sharp stones that rutted the paths. She was hot and tired and beginning to worry that she was stumbling around in circles when she came upon the crossroads.

A thin, pale girl, no older than Susannah, crouched by the path collecting strawberries in a basket. She stood quickly when Susannah approached, revealing that her worn gown was pulled tight across a pregnant belly.

"Will you tell me where these paths lead?" Susannah asked, knowing she could not pass without the girl noticing.

The girl stared, and then pointed to the right. "Tha goes to Bellefleur Manor uphill, the bridge over Reynolds brook straight on, and Thornton Abbey downhill."

Susannah thanked her. Apart from her swollen stomach, the girl was disturbingly bony and frail-looking. Susannah found herself unwrapping the bread from her cloak and tearing the girl a hunk. The girl accepted it with amazement and immediately began to gnaw on it like a wild, starving creature.

"Do you know who I am?" Susannah asked apprehensively.

"Aye. I think I do," the girl replied, her mouth full of bread.

"Should Bartlett de Hale come looking for me, I pray you'll not tell."

The girl's eyes opened wide. "I will swear that I have never seen thee." She picked up her basket and turned to leave. "I won't look back. I shall never know which way tha went."

The light was fading as she crossed the wooden bridge over the river and climbed the gentle slope toward the abbey. Bellefleur Manor promised her no safety, and beyond the village of Reynolds lay the dangerous edges of the Bon Temps Wastes, a vast wilderness of heaths, marshlands, and dark forests. Only Thorton Abbey offered the possibility of sanctuary. But as she drew nearer the stronger her doubts grew. How would they receive her? She'd heard of folk accused of crime claiming the right to sanctuary, but they'd been men. Would the same apply to a girl fleeing an arranged marriage?

Solemn chanting drifted in waves of sound across the fish ponds and fields, as she moved along the edges of the wooded land watching the cloister doors. A statue of the Virgin, one hand raised in blessing, stood in a niche beside the door. Surely there was safety here. She took a step toward it, then stopped, trembling. The carved stone face was blank, no blessing there at all – the hand was raised in warning: Stop! Go back! Run away!

With a fresh sense of fright, Susannah gathered up her skirts and shrank backward among the trees. Before she'd had a chance to move far into the shadows, the clattering of two horsemen made her turn in alarm.

"Open up! Open up! A message from Bartlett de Hale."

Susannah knew the voices. They were her uncle's grooms.

She ran wildly now, not thinking of the way, but going where the trees grew thickest and horses could not follow. Her legs banged against tree stumps and scraped on rocks as she fled, borne onward by the energy of fear. As the trees grew taller and more spaced, she slowed her steps but staggered on, stiff-limbed, her head drooping in despair. She was lost and heading toward the place she feared most to go; the wilderness of Bon Temps, beyond the reaches of the law.

Others had come this way. They took refuge in the deep forest – those who'd killed, or robbed, or maimed. Why, even Adele's nephew, Eric, was one of them. Perhaps he hid there still.

Both her courage and her legs finally failed her. She fell to the ground, huge great sobs shaking her body.

She cried for a long time, letting all of her emotions drip into the forest floor. When her sobs at last grew hushed and stillness returned, she began to hear the rustling of small bodies in the ferns, the screech of an owl, and a faint trickle of water. Water!

Susannah stumbled through the dark, following the gurgle of the stream. When the moon came out from behind a cloud, she found herself at a spring, a fairyland of glittering water and fern. She drank in long gulps from her cupped hands. Realizing that she had found Saint Lafayette's Well, the spring Adele had told her existed at the edge of the waste, she felt a little less lost. She crawled beneath the thick drooping branches of a yew tree close to the water's source and ate what was left of her bread. She couldn't remember anything ever tasting so good. Her spirits rose. She was alone in the woods, but safe and warm and free from her uncle and the strict protection of Holt Manor.

She curled up in her cloak and fell asleep to thoughts of the Green Lady, the beautiful spirit of the woods, who walked through the forest, blessing the trees with fruitfulness, hand in hand with the Green Man.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – The Forestwife

Gran's familiar humming roused Susannah from her strange dream. She snuggled further into the bed but instead of cool linen, her hands found soft, dry needles. She opened her eyes. Above her spread the branches of a grand yew tree dappled with beams of morning sunlight. It hadn't been a dream. She really had fled her home and everything she had ever known to avoid an arranged marriage to the disgusting Lord Compton.

But...if she had run away, why could she hear Adele's deep croaky voice, the same voice that had woken her every morning since she was a child?

Susannah sat up, and blinked at the unexpected sight before her.

Adele was crouched before a fire of smoking beech wood, cooking big, flat mushrooms threaded carefully onto sticks.

"Gran!"

Susannah, her blonde braids knotted and spiked with yew needles, scrambled out of her tree shelter and flung her arms around her nurse.

"What!" laughed Adele, stroking her hair. "Is this a forest fairy, or a fierce wicked sprite?"

Susannah burst into tears and hugged the woman tighter. Then without warning she released her nurse and backed away, her face suddenly cautious. "I'll not go back, whatever you say. I'd rather die."

Adele pulled a sour face. "And I'd rather die than take thee back. Do you think I fed thee as a babe, and taught thee all I know, to provide a breeding sow for a rich old hog?"

Susannah gaped speechlessly.

Adele sighed and flexed her stiff fingers. "I was making my own plans. Perhaps I should have told thee. I never guessed tha'd go galloping off like a furious colt at the first sign of a bridle."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell thee...I just...I just couldn't marry him," Susannah tried to explain.

Her nurse just nodded and turned the hissing mushrooms before drawing a loaf from the linen bundle beside her. She broke the bread and piled golden-singed mushrooms on top before handing Susannah her portion.

"How did you find me, Gran?" Susannah asked, between bites.

"Twasn't easy," Adele chuckled. "While your uncle went a-banging and a-bellowing round the manor a-calling out his grooms and horses, the kitchen maid set me on thy track. The servants think tha's a silly spoiled brat – no need to pull that face at me young mistress, I'm only telling truth – but they've no love for their master and they wish thee no harm. Then the charcoal burner gave me the nod, though I had terrible trouble with that daft, pregnant daughter of his. She'd tell me naught, though I could see she knew."

Susannah smiled. The girl she had met at the crossroads had kept her word.

"I puzzled a bit where the paths all meet," Adele continued, "but I remembered telling thee of Saint Lafayette's Well and suspected that tha'd be drawn to the only familiar place in this wilderness, even if tha only knew it in stories."

"I nearly went to the abbey," Susannah confessed.

"And, tha'd've found no joy there," Adele replied sadly. She brushed the crumbs from her skirt. "Still, here we both are, and 'tis time we were on our way."

"To where? No one will dare give us help and shelter? They all fear my uncle."

"Aye, here they do, sure enough, but I know where to go, my lovely. Just trust me and follow me, and though we've a long way to go, we shall be safe by nightfall." Adele grabbed the bundle beside her. "Now, tha might help to share my burden, for I didn't leave in such a rush that I forgot my common sense."

Susannah opened her mouth to retort that she'd been sensible enough to bring her cloak, but thought better of it and said nothing. Adele produced a pair of riding boots.

"I took these from the youngest groom. I guessed they'd fit thee well enough. He went tearing round in circles in his bare feet, cursing and swearing when the master ordered him out to search."

Susannah looked down at her soft, leather slippers. They were shredded to ribbons on her feet. She gratefully took the boots and pulled them on.

Gran tossed her a dark red kerchief.

"Tie this around your head, like me. Aye, do it thyself...tha must learn, for I've more to do now than act as a lady's maid. Now, kilt up thy gown, aye, that's right, like the maid that carries the slops."

Adele stood back to admire Susannah's transformation. "Tha's actually fit to go striding through the woods now," she proclaimed. "Here's a good wool cloak tha can use to make a bundle, along with two knives, some twine, needles, candles, and a tinderbox with flint. And hide that fine purple cloak, 'tis far too noticeable. We shall have to change it when we get the chance."

"All right, all right. I see tha's well prepared," Susannah said with a touch of resentment. She gathered the goods into her bundle. Then, she reconsidered her response and bent forward to kiss her nurse on the cheek. "I'm glad tha came. I'd be lost without thee."

When she thought about it, Susannah wasn't terribly surprised that Gran had followed her into the wilderness. Adele had always been something of a law unto herself, the unofficial matriarch of Hale Manor. She'd insisted on tramping to Northman Valley for a few days every month to visit her brother and nephew. Bartlett de Hale had accepted it, though any other servant would have been whipped. Of course, they'd needed Adele at Hale Manor. She was a fine herbalist. Gran's special salves and potions had eased the aches and pains of all at the house and it was well known that she had saved the reeve's life when he was set upon and beaten by robbers. It occurred to Susannah that Adele would be missed at Hale Manor far more keenly than she.

The morning was bright and sunny and with Adele walking ahead of her, Susannah felt safe and hopeful. The forest, in the lush green hold of summer, was jewelled with leaves of emerald, olive, and beryl and spiced with the aroma of fresh sap.

Still keeping to the woodland paths, they passed through the forests of Pardloe and headed east toward Pickens and Pelt Wood. A few folk passed them with brief nods, too weary and harassed with their own concerns to be interested in the two women carrying rough bundles.

An old man approached, his mule piled high with coppiced wood. He nodded to Adele and was continuing down the path when he suddenly growled and snatched up Susannah's wrist. He grabbed violently at the silver-and-garnet ring on her forefinger. Susannah kicked him in the shins and yanked her hand back.

"Let go," she screamed.

He hung on tight, his face determined. He released his mule and used his free hand to wrench Susannah's head back painfully. Her kerchief slipped, revealing the intricate braids of a lady. His lips split into a greedy smile at his discovery.

Before Susannah even noticed she had moved, Adele had grabbed a fistful of the man's greasy hair and pressed her sharp meat knife to his throat.

"Leave her be!" she spat.

When the man laughed, Adele pushed the blade into his skin until blood trickled down over his Adam's apple. His hand loosened from Susannah's arm and she fled out of his reach.

"Get on thy way," Adele snarled, pushing him toward the mule that had set off without him.

"I go...I go," he protested, his eyes risking one more avaricious glance at the silver on Susannah's hand and the gold of her hair.

Adele kept the knife in her hand until the man disappeared into the distance, then she turned on Susannah with fury. "That damned ring of yours," she snapped. "Tha'd be better off if tha'd thrown it in the stream."

"Tha well knows it belonged to my mother. I'll not be parted from it," Susannah bit back.

"Then don't wear it on thy finger for all to see like some daft rich lady."

Susannah glared at Adele. She grabbed Gran's knife and used it to cut a length of twine that she pulled from her bundle.

"Get a move on, tha silly wench," Adele barked, shoving the knife back into her belt. "We'll have to travel even faster now." She stamped off leaving Susannah to hastily thread her ring onto the twine and knot it behind her neck.

They walked for hours, each silently seething. Susannah's legs ached and feet blistered trying to keep pace, but she dared not complain. Her fussy old nurse had suddenly become a strange, alarming woman. Adele's quick action with the meat knife had saved them from being robbed, no doubt of it, but the speed and fierceness with which she'd moved had been shocking.

For the first time in her life, Susannah was wary of the woman who had raised her. As the forest grew thicker and more tangled, she grew warier still. They seemed to be heading right into the heart of the Bon Temps wilderness, a forest so forbidding that travellers skirted it for miles to avoid stepping under its dark canopy. Even those travelling through on the great Roman road feared its wild bands of cutthroats who swooped out to prey on the unwary and the evil witch who could control the trees.

The terrifying red-eyes of the witch flashed through her mind. No! She wouldn't think about Her. Gran had promised Susannah that she would be safe. She would never take her anywhere near the Forestwife.

The midday sun was high in the sky when they stopped at an ancient stone well. Adele stooped to drink the water, then brought out the last of the bread from her baggage. She broke it in two and held half of it out to Susannah.

Susannah took a bite but she could not swallow it. Her mouth had gone dry with cold realization.

"What well is this?" she whispered, dreading the answer.

"'Tis the Old Wife's Well; what else?" Adele grunted.

Susannah crumpled down beside the carved stone trough, her bundle falling at her feet. "They say that those who pass this well are following the secret path to seek the Forestwife."

"Aye, they do say that, don't they."

Susannah rose to her feet almost hysterical. "How dare tha bring me here? The Forestwife is a witch. All decent folk live in fear of her lest she blight their crops and sicken their infants. Yet tha'd lead me right to her door."

Gran chewed her bread, unperturbed. "'Tis true, my girl, all decent folk do fear the Forestwife and fear the woods she lives in." Adele's steely gaze locked on Susannah's. "So, if we don't want decent folk to be finding us, 'tis straight to the Forestwife that we must go."

"We will not!"

Adele picked up her bundle. "Well, that is where I go. Thee must please theesen."

"No...wait. Gran! Come back!"

But Gran strode away, following the narrow path straight into the dreaded forest that haunted Susannah's nightmares. After a moment of sheer, dithering panic, Susannah picked up her bundle and followed her. What else could she do? She had nowhere else to go, and Adele, marching ahead without a backward glance, knew it.

The afternoon light began to fade. Susannah's shoulders were sore where the bundle rubbed, and her arms ached with the carrying. Every drop of her morning's joy of the woods had drained away. This forest was a cold, damp, frightening place. The tall thick trees blocked out the sun and made the barren ground beneath them smell mouldy and dank. Gran, her saviour, had turned bitter and sharp.

Yes...she'd grown sharp. Where had her vague, forgetful Gran gone?

The change was jarring for Susannah, especially since Gran had not been her old busy, efficient self for a while. Not since last year when the terrible news came to Hale from Northman. Adele's brother had been found with his throat slit, out in the fields next to his plough. Eric had vanished, and he'd been named as his father's murderer.

After that, she'd started to lose things and forget what she was doing. Sometimes she'd stop in the middle of speaking, as though her mind was on something else. She'd even wandered off for whole days at a time and not even seem to know that she'd been gone. Everyone pretended not to notice but whispered to each other that the tragedy had been too much for a woman so fond of her nephew and brother to bear.

Was it that same vicious Eric that Gran searched for now? The thought made Susannah uncomfortable. Adele had always claimed that Eric was innocent but Susannah was sure her nurse had been blinded by affection. From what she had heard, he was a violent, unpredictable troublemaker who was remarkably fast and accurate with a bow. Now that he was a murderer and an outlaw, he must have become an even harder and more frightening man. Susannah truly hoped that their paths never crossed.

Ahead of her, Adele turned at a path junction without hesitation. She walked with such confidence that Susannah began to wonder if her Gran had been this way before, another new mystery about the woman that Susannah had supposedly known so well.

They were still moving as twilight faded into thick blackness. She walked into branches and rocks and groaned with pain and exhaustion. At last Susannah's anger was overcome by cold and worry. She ignored the rubbing of her feet and strode ahead to catch up. A bad-tempered friend who led you to murderers and witches was still better than no friend at all in this dark and frightening place.

Gran stopped and took her arm. She spoke kindly again. "Not far now, my honey. Not far. 'Tis a hard long way to walk, I know, but I promise thee we shall be safe."

"By nightfall you promised."

"I know, my lovely. I misremembered how far."

They stumbled on along the nearly invisible path, arms linked, each depending on the other not to fall. When Susannah was convinced that she couldn't take one step more, they came to a great oak tree that stood at the entrance to a clearing edged with yew trees. The moon showed just enough for them to see a small hut. There was no light within, only the tremendous din of unsettled animals—chickens clucking, goats bleating, and a great squawking and fluttering of wings.

Gran hurried forward. "Where is she?"

Before the oak tree stood an ancient carved stone. A smaller, wedge-shaped stone set in the curved top pointed toward the cottage door. Adele touched the stone.

"She should be here."

Susannah dropped her baggage and looked around. Three cats ran among chickens and goats, jumping and nipping at the poor goats' udders. Even in the dim light, she could see that the goats desperately needed milking.

Adele pushed open the doorway and haloo'd inside the hut. There was no reply.

"Well, I don't know. I really don't." She wandered around the side of the hovel.

Susannah scooped up a small cat with white patches, just as it pounced on a screeching hen.

"Susannah, come quick!" Adele called from behind the hut. "Fetch the candle and flint."

Susannah carried the tinderbox around to Adele. Her hands shook as she struggled to drop a spark onto the tinder and make a flame.

"Hurry, child, hurry!"

At last she had the candle lit. She bent down toward Adele with a sharp intake of breath. A very old, wrinkled woman lay quite still on the ground, her flesh yellow in the candlelight.

"Is she dead?" Susannah whispered.

"Aye," Adele sighed. "Dead at least a day and night, I should say."

"But... who is she?"

Adele stood up, and Susannah caught the glitter of a tear on her cheek. "She is Octavia...She is the Forestwife."

"Nay." Susannah shook her head. "She is just an old woman."

"Just a woman," said Gran. "Just a woman, like me and thee. Poor Octavia, she has waited too long already. She can wait until daybreak; then we must bury her."

They left her lying where she was, but Gran covered her with her own cloak.

"Let's go and see what must be done." She nodded toward the hut.

Susannah carried the candle inside. A half sack of grain lay in the corner, the top fastened with twine, though one clever chicken had pecked at a hole in the side.

"We'll get not peace here till these animals are dealt with," Gran said, entering the hut. "Fill that pot with grain from the sack, and throw it to the poor hungry hens."

She snatched up another pot herself and set to milking the three goats. One of the cats leaped onto her shoulder. The others purred and rubbed against her ankles, winding their tails around the goats' legs.

"I see the way of it." She laughed. "I see where the milk's supposed to go."

Susannah smiled too. It was comforting to hear Adele's laugh at so ordinary a thing. Though she was puzzled by the place, she was too exhausted to do much questioning.

"I thought perhaps you came here seeking your nephew?"

"Eric?" Gran looked surprised for a moment, but then answered firmly, shaking her head. "No need to seek for Eric. He'll come looking for me."

"Will he?" said Susannah, uneasy at the thought. A thought which stayed with her until both they and the animals were fed and nestled down to sleep on the beds of dry bracken, in the home of the Forestwife.

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><p>Please review :)<p>

Eric should finally be making his first appearance in the next chapter.


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